


these shores that cure

by lost_decade



Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: I blame André for everything, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sexting, Spanking, Voyeurism, this is just filth tbh, vague discussion of polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16427141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/pseuds/lost_decade
Summary: “Have you ever,” James starts, taking a sip and trying to figure out exactly how to phrase it, feeling his face flush a little which for fuck’s sake is ridiculous, partly because he knows in explicit detail just how many frankly depraved things Jenson has done and has had the good fortune to be involved in several of them himself.





	these shores that cure

**Author's Note:**

> So, James and Jenson instagrammed going for coffee a few times and then this happened. 
> 
> Thanks to those who cheerleaded this, you know who you are.
> 
> Title from I'll Be Yours by Placebo

James lifts his head from where he's been admiring the elegant swirling pattern of the leaf that decorates his coffee, wondering how best to broach the subject. There's no way to do it subtly really but then Jenson isn't the most shy and retiring guy James has ever fucked so it's not as if he's going to be shocked. It's probably more likely that James will get the piss ripped out of him for the rest of Jenson's time in Tokyo but honestly either way it's good having another Brit around sometimes, even if the two of them are both so far conditioned away from England that it might as well be another planet.

“Have you ever,” James starts, taking a sip and trying to figure out exactly how to phrase it, feeling his face flush a little which for fuck’s sake is ridiculous, partly because he knows in explicit detail just how many frankly depraved things Jenson has done and has had the good fortune to be involved in several of them himself. Jenson’s lips curve into half a smile, almost as if he's figured out the nature of what James is trying to ask and is thoroughly enjoying this.

“Have I ever what?”

James glances around the cafe, the noise level is minimal and he pauses until the bean grinder is in full swing to say quietly “Had a threesome where it’s--” stopping abruptly when Jenson starts laughing heartily, sloshing half his macchiato over the edge of the cup.

“Come on mate, you haven’t forgotten that Ecuadorian model already have you, you said that was the best night of your life?”

James flips him the finger, glancing away when his phone vibrates on the table, Jenson still laughing as James swipes away the whatsapp notification telling him he has a message from - yes of course, who else would it be - André.

“It was,” James tells him, concluding that now probably isn’t the right time. “You keep her number?”

“It’s all about Britt for me now,” Jenson replies, mostly convincingly. “I’m a one-woman man.”

It’s tempting to ask if she’s aware just how much Jenson enjoys fucking guys but James figures if he wants to be included on that list again within the next 24 hours it may be wise not to, so James raises an eyebrow but says nothing, the conversation turning to where to go for lunch.

*

_I bet u wish u were inside that ass_

**_André, seriously man fuck off_ **

_He misses u :(_

James frowns at the mix of crude and apparent sincerity, taking another long look at the photo of Jev leaning against the car. The racesuit clings to him in all the right places and James’ eyes linger on the curve of his arse, remembering the feel of his skin, the tight heat of his body.

André confuses him sometimes if he’s honest, and he’s definitely not complaining about all the things they’d wound up unexpectedly doing in the week leading up to the 6 hours but still there’s a question mark over what exactly it is that André is pushing for and it’s occurred to James more than once that his friend’s fear of commitment may just be rearing its head here, conspiring to convince the older driver that it’s all still just a bit of fun if there’s a third person involved.

James isn’t altogether sure he fits into that equation too easily, yet the symmetry with which they’d fallen into a pattern of quite spectacular fucking over those few short days has stayed with him, drawing him towards them even as he’d dropped Jean-Éric at Haneda on Sunday night, pulling him into a hug that lasted just a little longer than necessary.

“He’ll be here,” James had said as Jev looked down nervously at his watch, betraying a vulnerability that James imagined was probably one of the things that drew André to him in the first place.

The next message that comes through is confusing at first, James turning his phone around to try and decipher the picture to figure out which particular body part it is he’s looking at, before figuring out that it’s a close up of Jev’s collarbone. The lightly tanned flesh is littered with hickeys and James shudders, remembering how André’s mouth feels, how he likes to mark and claim, how it feels to be wrapped in his affection.

“Nice.”

James hurriedly exists the app, turning his head to frown at Jenson, who’s standing behind the couch peering over his shoulder with an expression that makes James want to punch him.

“A bit too skinny to be André so I’m guessing that’s Jev, right.”

James isn’t entirely sure that either André or Jean-Éric would want Jenson to have seen that, but then if André will insist on sending him porn in the middle of the afternoon what does he expect. “Didn’t your mum ever tell you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

Jenson chuckles, placing his hands on James’ shoulders and kneading his fingers into the aching muscles, tight and tense from the crossfit session they did earlier in the day. James groans in pleasure despite his attempts at being mildly pissed off; something it’s very difficult to be with Jenson for very long by virtue of him being an annoyingly charming arsehole.

“I can go and get a hotel if you want.” Jenson leans forward to bite at his neck, “if you’ve become so accustomed to Japanese politeness that my manners are offending you.”

James laughs despite himself, tipping his head back further to allow Jenson to suck a mark into his throat, thinking back to the picture of Jev and further than that to the memory of how it had felt to mark the Frenchman’s skin himself, the yielding softness of his inner thighs beneath James’ mouth and the way he’d trembled with it.

“I don’t get to have you here often enough to kick you out, even if you are infuriating,” James replies. It’s at the tip of his tongue to say that he misses Jenson, but their friendship, although long-lasting and intimate on certain levels, has never stretched to something deep enough for James to be comfortable divulging anything too emotional. What he really misses the most is having André around all the time, or maybe deeper than that he misses having someone he can create a home with here on the other side of the world.

Jenson slides his hand down inside the collar of James’ shirt, fingernails raking lightly over a nipple teasingly enough to make him shiver before trailing back up to map the ridges of his collarbone.

“That was a nice photo,” Jenson says, low in his ear, “I think you’d look pretty fucking good with some marks like that yourself, maybe we can send a picture to André, hmm?”

James, for all he thinks he should protest, can only nod his agreement, reaching up to grab at Jenson’s jaw and guide him near for a kiss.

 

*

_he’s so good_

 

James bites down on his lip, thinking how he should turn his read receipts off and then maybe André would stop fucking around. Instead he braces himself with his left arm on the bed, lifting his free hand to swipe into his phone settings and change the screen timeout to the longest setting, thankful that he has plenty of battery.

**_Yeah?_ **

He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning forward on both elbows again, spreading his legs a little wider at Jenson’s insistence and rocking back into the calm strength of his hands. Jenson’s fingers trace down the vertebrae of his spine before pausing, tongue teasingly licking at the top of his arse crack making James fight to suppress a groan.

_Such a slut for cock. Look at him._

James takes a shaky breath, whimpering when the palm of Jenson’s hand makes contact sharply with his right arse cheek. He rocks back as Jenson strokes over the skin soothingly before bringing his hand down again, a series of short slaps that make James feel as if his skin is on fire, repeating the process on the other cheek.

“It’s rude to text when you’re having sex with someone,” Jenson chides, but the amusement in his tone leads James to believe he’s not entirely put out by it. “Especially if you don’t share the goods with the guy who’s about to fuck you.”

Jenson directs another blow to the backs of James’ thighs at the same time as a photo comes through on his phone, and maybe it's the blossoming pain and addictive heat that makes him shake and dip his head down closer to the image on the screen, but he feels his cock twitch against his stomach, a whimper escaping his lips at the sight. The photo is reckless, if nothing else, easily identifiable as Jean-Éric even with the blindfold that covers his eyes. It's a side-on image of him kneeling on the floor - not indecent in that he's still wearing underwear, but little else save for a strip of black fabric that covers his eyes, a delicate beaded necklace that sits nestled perfectly in the marked hollows of his collarbone and the leather cuffs that secure his wrists together behind his back. His lips are slightly parted, looking up unseeingly into the darkness.

“Fuck,” James gasps, “fuck, he’s gorgeous.”

“I think I should have control of this for a while,” Jenson leans forward and slides the phone out from under James, humming appreciatively at the image. “Maybe I should've paid more attention to him back in F1. Although he seemed to be a bit preoccupied with Ricciardo. Dan talks about him sometimes, you know?”

James makes a sound of surprise that quickly stretches into a moan when he feels the press of Jenson’s fingers parting his arse cheeks, slippery with lube and soothing against his heated skin.

“Make sure you don’t mention that to André,” James warns, “he’s not exactly Dan’s biggest fan.”

He arches his back at the touch of Jenson’s finger circling his hole, sinking into the sensation even as it isn’t quite enough, his thoughts drifting momentarily until he’s knocked back into the room at the unmistakable swoosh of a message being sent.

“Jense…” he tries to formulate a protest, which is difficult because it’s at that moment when Jenson chooses to slide his finger all the way in to the knuckle. James drops his head forward to rest against the pillow for a moment, rocking his hips back with a whine. “What the hell are you saying to him?”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be demanding I tell you things.” Jenson licks around his finger, his other hand massaging James’ balls lightly. “You can have a look later. Fuck, Jev can really deep-throat huh, that’s impressive.”

James knows he’s fighting a losing battle here, somewhat thrown off balance by the direction this is taking, given how most of the time sex with Jenson is fairly quick and functional, an edge of roughness to the way Jense likes to fuck, yeah, but not a slow drawn out tease like this is becoming. He can’t decide whether he likes it or not. “If you get lube on my phone I’ll kill you,” James says, in place of _please, fuck, show me._

“Stop bitching, you love this.” Jenson reaches around to wrap a hand around the base of James’ cock, stroking the length of him firmly, palming the precome that’s steadily leaking from the tip as he presses another finger inside him. James’ arms shake with the effort of holding himself up and honestly if Jenson carries on this way he thinks he might come in about ten seconds flat.

“God, you’re so hard, you’re so into this aren’t you.” Jenson releases the grip on his cock, biting at the meat of his reddened arse cheeks before spreading him wide again, jabbing his tongue into him in a rhythm so quick and relentless it makes James’ toes curl.

Jenson moans softly, James realising that fuck, he really is into this too before a word of encouragement throws him entirely off because that isn’t Jenson’s voice at all, it’s André’s.

“What,” he starts. The way that Jenson’s touch leaves him completely then is so bewildering that he turns his head, twisting around to see that Jenson is sitting back a little, phone in one hand and the other stroking his cock frantically enough that James isn’t sure he’s even going to last. “Jense, c’mon, fuck me already. Don’t make me beg you.”

Jenson bites his lip, his expression faltering a little for the first time all day. He puts the phone down on the bed, presumably pressing play on the video again when it ends and grabbing James by the hips, dragging him back towards him and breaching him with his fingers again, rough and purposeful now.

James collapses forward onto his forearms fully, closing his eyes at the repeating sound of Jean-Éric trying not gag and thinking of the earlier photo that is now indelibly burned into his consciousness. He wonders if Jev’s fingers are twitching with the ache to touch, the leather of the cuffs chafing against the soft skin of his wrists. André likes it when you let him fuck your mouth like a toy made solely for his pleasure, James remembers this because it was so far out of his personal comfort zone when they’d first started fucking that it’d taken months for him to relax enough.

 _Yeah_ \- James hears, followed by a muffled whimper. He wonders if there’s saliva dripping down Jev’s chin, if his eyes are watering. _Take a breath, that’s it._

James moans when Jenson pulls his fingers out and he feels the head of Jenson’s cock press against his hole. “André,” he gasps, unthinkingly.

“You’re gonna have to make do with me for now, sorry.”

James isn’t exactly complaining about that and he’d never claim to be a size queen either but Jenson’s cock is remarkably similar in size to André’s in a way that sends shivers through him. He can’t help but think of last week, of André sitting in the chair that if he turns his head he can see now; André with his thighs spread wide, naked except for a t-shirt, jerking himself off. André giving him instructions as Jean-Éric had moaned on this same bed, his legs wrapped around James’ waist and his head pressed back into the pillow.

 _Grab his throat a bit, he loves that_ , André had told him, and James had looked down at Jev, slowed up the movements of his hips and pushed in deeper, wrapping his fingers around Jev’s neck and watched in astonishment as he came all over his stomach with his cock still untouched. And then André saying _\- we could do this all the time if you want, just the three of us. Like a real team._

James had almost tricked himself into believing he hadn’t heard, the words getting lost in the rush of his orgasm. He’d watched afterwards through the gap in the open door as André had kissed Jev in the shower, watched as he’d wrapped the towel around Jev and hugged him close and whispered things that James couldn’t hear but could guess at. He figures he was supposed to see, that that was what they wanted. Even now he’s not entirely sure why. André’s _I’ll give you a few days to think about what I said,_ dropped casually as him and Jev were walking to the check in desk at the airport was vague as fuck.

What is a few days anyway, when you’re across time zones? James figures the few days must be up, what else could explain why André’s taken it upon himself to push the issue. It wouldn’t even surprise James if this was all yesterday or earlier even, and that André’s having a fucking coffee and reading the manual for his new camera right now while sending these messages. He isn’t sure if that would be better or worse.

“God, you feel so good,” Jenson grits out, wrapping strong arms around James’ waist and hoisting him up into a sitting position, James reaching back to clutch Jenson to him, fucking himself on Jenson’s cock and shivering at the change of angle. Jenson’s movements stutter a little, he shoves James forward so he has no choice but to grab at the headboard, gripping it tightly as Jenson moans loudly, scratching one hand down James’ chest to pinch at his nipples, the other gripping his hip as he thrusts in deep and then stills, biting at James’ shoulder as he shakes through his orgasm. James feels strung tight, so close to release but suspended between Jenson’s pleasure and the thought of Jev, helplessly debased and loved at the same time. He wants that, he wants to feel the power of André’s attention and the experiences it brings, he wants to know more of Jev and the weird mixture of naive and serious that he seems to be. More than anything he just wants to fucking come.

Jenson lowers them both to the bed, carefully pulling out of James and rolling him onto his back, it taking a moment before he realises the sharp pain in his side is from the phone that’s digging into his sweat soaked skin. He pulls it from under himself, lifting it in front of his face and squinting at the screen brightness. He hears the snap and wince of Jenson removing the condom from his dick, flinging it somewhere that James can’t be bothered to care about now, before dipping his head to part James’ thighs, kissing the inside of one before he licks up the length of James’ almost painfully hard cock.

“You always did like him the best,” Jenson says before taking him in his mouth properly. It’s matter of fact and non-judgmental but probably not too far from the truth, James decides, looking back through the recent message chain - which, fuck, why did Jenson feel the need to send a selfie of himself right at _that_ moment - before it’s all too much and he has to shove his own fist in his mouth for a second with the sensations that Jenson is pulling out of him.

The screen of his phone is blurred and filthy and he feels almost drunk with need as he presses his thumb over the green circle indicating the microphone, murmuring _fuck I want you André, want you both,_ before he can ask himself if it’s a good idea. Jenson hums around his cock, pushing two fingers back inside him and curling them perfectly at the same time as another image appears on the screen. Jean-Éric is smiling, sitting naked on the bed in front of André, loosely hugging his knees. André’s legs are bracketed either side of Jev’s and Jev is leaning back against him lightly, André resting his chin on Jev’s shoulder to look into the camera. Even with the black and white of the image James can still see the glistening trails of spunk on Jean-Éric’s face, on his chest.

The text below the picture just says _good_ and it’s so very André that James can do nothing but screw his eyes shut and clench against the movement of Jenson’s fingers, gripping the phone hard enough that he fears the screen will shatter as he comes into the blissful heat of Jenson’s mouth with a long drawn out moan.

 * 

“You should probably stay off the bike tomorrow,” Jenson’s voice drifts through the haze of the dream James had half been in - something confusing where he was with Jev in Big Gym in Ueno, trying to find a typically kinky thing André had wanted. He’s about to protest but then the soothing cold of the lotion that Jenson rubs carefully over the tenderised skin of his arse cheeks causes him to rethink. Jenson moves up the bed, stroking his fingers through James’ hair affectionately. “I’m going to get takeout for us,” he says. “You should shower, and um, maybe clean your phone up a bit.”

James giggles, pressing his face against Jenson’s hand. “You’re all fucking awful.” He licks at Jenson’s palm in a gesture very unlike himself, but one that feels nice all the same, even with the vague taste of aloe on Jenson’s skin.

“Get Uni in the takeaway,” he yells when Jenson’s about to close the bedroom door, “It’ll make André jealous.”

  



End file.
